by S. C. Ellen
“Uh, Earth to Alayna, I wanted a simple glass of wine, not a fountain of it.” My head snaps from Carson to Jase, and I see the mess I accidentally created when I overfilled his glass.
“Shit!” I quickly grab a napkin and begin to wipe up the spilled wine. Mom is going to kill me now that I’ve ruined one of her placemats.
“Are you alright, Alayna? You seem distracted,” my father speaks up, handing his wine glass over to me.
“I’m fine.” Really, I’m totally not fine, and wish I was anywhere but here. I don’t say that, though; I’m trying not to let my emotions spill over like the Merlot just did on Jase.
Once I fill my father’s glass, I move over to Carson. I take a peek at him and see that he has a smug look on his face like he knows exactly what has me so distracted, and is reveling in it.
I don’t know what my issue is, or what came over me, but I don’t like it. Not one bit. He shouldn’t be having any effect on me whatsoever. Yet, here he is. This is all so wrong.
His eyes seek out mine as I pour him a glass, and just like before, I fall victim to his hypnotizing green eyes that keep me entranced and fully captivated. He runs a hand across his jaw and looks at me pleasingly. Like I’m the only meal he wants a taste of. My heart suddenly skips a strange beat, and any prior thoughts I had quickly vanish and disappear as I stand there. I feel drawn to him. Almost like I want to close the gap between us and never let go.
It’s terrifying, and I know that I am treading into dangerous territory that I need to put a stop too. Now. So, I quickly snap myself out of it to finish up with the drinks, and head into the kitchen to carry out the rest of the food.
I bring out the last dish, and everyone is already seated. Of course, the only seat that is left open is right next to Carson.
I hastily sit down, praying that this dinner goes by quick.
“Well, now that we are all here,” my father starts, “I’ll say the prayer.” Everyone offers each other their hands. Carson reaches for mine, immediately clasping them together. My eyes linger on our joined hands, and then browse up to his face. He has his eyes closed and his head bowed as my father starts.
Little flutters start to creep up the longer I stare at him, and I know it’s really wrong not to observe proper prayer protocol, but I can’t help myself. Something is happening, and I can’t seem to stop it. The harder I try, the more enticed I feel.
I shake the thought away, thinking now is definitely not the time to dwell on that any further, so I glance across the rest of the table. Everyone’s head is bowed, but I see a tiny little hand, let go of his brothers, to sneak some bites from the ravioli bowl in front of him. Once Max sees that I caught him, he suddenly drops the ravioli he was about to eat and quickly bows his head, pretending nothing ever happened.
I try to contain my laughter, but it’s almost impossible which earns a glare from my mother.
“…And please God, protect our family and friends from the evils of this world, amen.” After everyone raises their glass in salut, streams of endless Italian dishes are passed around.
I for one waste no time digging in and getting my plate full.
Liliana fills a plate for her dad and then tops off his empty wine glass. He completely ignores the food in front of him and goes directly for the wine. She sends him a disapproving glare, but he’s too in his own head to acknowledge it.
“Parli Italiano, Carson?” my aunt Valentina asks, passing her husband a plate full of grilled asparagus.
I look at Carson, honestly curious if he can speak fluent Italian.
“Si, it’s my native tongue.”
Surprise washes over my face at the knowledge, furthering my never-ending questions about Carson and where he came from.
Liliana looks as if she might combust right in her seat. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” She blushes, taking a sip from her wine.
“Too old for you,” her father interrupts, drunkenly stabbing a knife into his beef braciole.
Liliana lets out a frustrated and embarrassed breath. “I’m sorry, my father seems to have forgotten his manners tonight.”
“Lili, have you decided which college you’re going to?” my mother attempts to change the subject.
“No, I haven’t really given it much thought. If I did, though, probably the local university Al graduated from.”
Carson turns his attention toward me. “You went to college?”
“Yes,” I reply, a little put off by the surprised look on his face. I may be a mafia princess, but I sure don’t get treated like one. I work hard for what I want.
“Graduated top of her class with a bachelor’s degree in social work,” my father says with a bright smile on his face, and I roll my eyes. He loves to brag about my accomplishments. “My Al is more than just a beauty, she’s got brains, too.”
“Apparently,” Carson whispers under his breath. I think that maybe I imagined him saying that but can’t be sure. My heart skips another beat in response anyway.
“Oh, yes, our darling little Al is one smart cookie,” Jase coos, and I can already tell this isn’t going to end well. “She happens to know a few languages herself. However, Russian is definitely not one of them.”
I nearly kick him under the table for bringing up last night’s events.
“I’m just saying.” He evilly smirks. I guess he’s getting his payback for the club incident.
Carson clears his throat and changes the subject before my dad can ask too many questions.
After dinner, the men all head outside for cigars. Lena goes home early on Sundays, so the cleanup is left for the women.
After everything is washed up and put away, dessert is served. Max and Mario dig into everything they possibly can, and even I indulge in one or three cannolis, but who’s counting?
Once the night is over, the poor boys are asleep in their father’s arms, knocked out from all the sugar they consumed.
We all say our farewells, and in no time, I’m back in Carson’s car heading home.
“Well, tonight was…interesting,” I state, breaking the silence.
“I had a good time.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be.” I yawn out loud, in need of my bed because I still haven’t fully recovered from last night’s fiasco.
“Why would it have gone badly? Your family are very nice people.”
I laugh out loud, “They were on their best behavior, I guess. How about your family? I bet they aren’t half as embarrassing as mine are.”
Almost like I struck a nerve, he goes quiet for a moment. I hold my breath, waiting for him to erupt like usual when I push for information, but after a few terse minutes, he stoically replies, “I don’t know, I don’t really remember them.”
A breath of relief escapes me. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I genuinely express, and he gives a brief nod of his head.
“You must have had some kind of home, though? I mean, you’re very knowledgeable, for starters.”
His knuckles turn an off shade of white on the steering wheel, but his expression remains impassive. “I was in the foster care system in upstate New York when I was six years old. That’s when your father found me, after someone finally got into contact with him, and my life changed drastically after that.”
Saddened to hear that he was in the system throughout his early years, I can’t help but feel a little elated that he’s finally opening up to me.
“Why didn’t he just bring you here? To Michigan?”
He runs a hand through his hair, something I noted that he often does when he’s stressed. I also realize he’s actually going the speed limit for once, instead of racing home like usual. I don’t mean to jump to my own conclusions, but maybe he actually wants to let me in?
“Growing up I already felt like a burden to not only society, but to life, in general. I was a nobody, not even worth enough to get a new toy, or clothes that weren’t tattered and worn out from others who came before me. I did
n’t want to feel like a burden in another strange place. All I knew at the time that your father came around was my home was New York, and that was the only aspect of my life I could actually control, so I told your father no, that I didn’t want to follow him back to Michigan.”
The fact that young Carson thought we would see him as a burden strikes a chord in me. No one should ever have to feel that way. Little did he know that in reality, it was actually the complete opposite.
“Can I ask how you came to work for my father?”
He hesitates a bit, looking deep in thought before answering. “I was always good at school. Numbers and logic come easily to me. I excelled in all my classes and ended up graduating with all honors. During that time, a lot of shit that I don’t care to talk about happened, and your father knew I needed some type of outlet. He came to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse, and the rest is history.”
I would have never in a million years figured any of that out. It makes total sense, though, all those times my father would fly off to New York for weeks at a time were all for Carson. Still, it leaves a lot of questions unanswered, though, like how my father even crossed paths with him in the first place, why he’d want to bring him into the family fold, and why all the secrecy?
Judging by the tired expression on Carson’s face, I decide not to pry any more than I already have.
But it’s at that moment that I look at him. Really take a good look at the depth of this man, and realize I’ve been fighting the wrong battle. Carson isn’t to blame, and I’ve been treating him unfairly this whole time. The man is the way that he is for a reason, and here I am taking my life for granted. Of course I look privileged to him, I had everything he never had, and yet here I am, complaining and wallowing in my sorrows. It’s pathetic.
“Thank you for being honest with me, Carson. I probably don’t deserve it with the way I’ve been going about this situation, but I appreciate it, nonetheless.”
A few moments of silence pass before he speaks again, “I guess I want you to understand the man behind the monster before you finally realize that you don’t want all the answers to my harsh truths.”
His words set a chill down my spine, and my gaze strays away from him. I don’t think it’s the monster that I’m afraid or curious of at this point, I think it’s more of the man. I know Carson’s demons run deep, and it’s only a matter of time before I see exactly how deep they run, but seeing him in the underground made me realize that it takes a certain type of individual who is that dark and twisted, they can easily conceal the beast within their being, until it’s needed. It’s not an evil that you are born with; it’s an evil that only a troubled life can create.
I don’t know why, but it’s from that moment on that I know Carson can be considered one of the deadliest men in the world, and Lord only knows the story behind it. However, if he thinks his words will deter me, he will be sadly mistaken. They do the opposite, actually; they only entice me that much more to find out exactly the inner workings of his mind.
He’s dangerous, that much is true, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to figure out the man behind the darkness anyway.
I can’t help it. It’s the social worker in me. I never claim to make smart choices, I’m too trusting for my own good, but that doesn’t stop me from digging deep into the minds of people and try my very best to heal them. I know Carson is too far gone for something like that, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t try.
I glance over at him with a sincere expression on my face. He looks over at me with high suspicion, probably wondering why I’m not taking off screaming inside of the house since we’ve just arrived home.
Before he can say anything that he thinks will scare me away again, I say my final piece. “If it weren’t for you saving me last night, I wouldn’t be here right now, and I’m grateful for it. I guess… I’m trying to say… I’m glad that you’re here, Carson, and I’m sorry it took me almost being kidnapped to see that… Also, thanks for not ratting me out to my dad about last night. Maybe you’re not as bad as you think after all.”
His expression softens, “Alayna—”
I interrupt him, smiling shyly. “Maybe we should start over?” I place my hand in front of him to take, “Hi, I’m Alayna. Pleasure to meet you.”
He eyes it briefly before grasping it tightly in his own, sending tingles down my spine. “Carson, and the pleasure is most definitely all mine.”
My cheeks turn a bright shade of red, and I can hear my pulse thundering against my ears. Something definitely changed in the last seventy-two hours, and I can’t explain why. I’d like to believe it’s because he saved my life, but I know it’s not just that. For some unexplained reason, I’m drawn to him, even though my mind is telling me to stay far away. He’s a mystery I want to solve, and the pull I’ve felt toward him since the moment we met is there, and it’s growing tighter and tighter everyday. I know I have to get out of here soon because I’m starting to feel things. Things I don’t want to feel in regard to Carson. I quickly remove my hand from his and open the door, stepping out into the fresh air to take a well-needed breath. However, before I know what I’m doing, or what comes over me, I lean back in with a flirty wink that even surprises me. “I owe you one.”
A look of desire flashes across his expression, and before he can say anything else, I shut the car door and make my way inside, with the promise of cracking the mysterious case that is Carson Granvil. I just hope that my naïve heart will be able to survive it.
Alayna
The next morning the house is a bit quieter than usual. Heading downstairs, I expect to find Carson in the kitchen but draw up short. He’s not here. I figure he’s still in bed until a note by the coffee machine catches my attention.
Headed out for an early workout. Freshly made coffee ready to drink. Call it a sign of truce.
-Your burden then and now, C
I laugh as I pour myself a to-go cup of the truce coffee. I take a quick sip of it and boy, does it taste like a victory. I type out a quick text to Carson.
Me: A truce you want, a truce you shall receive. I’m off to work now, thanks for the coffee! BTW, you were never a burden. Not then… and I’m starting to think not so much now, either.
Before I leave to start my day at work, I get a text back from Carson.
Carson: I appreciate that. Have a good day.
I text him back as soon as I step through the double doors of the office.
Me: I’m sure you’ll know if I have a good day or not, considering I caught you staking out near the office. Don’t think I didn’t catch that.
Carson: Can’t get anything past you, can I?
Me: No, not really :)
With my spirits in a highly unusual mood, I make my way into work, feeling safer than I have in a long time knowing that Carson is somewhere near, keeping an eye on things. The day passes by in a blur, and in no time, I’m clocking out for the day.
I notice Carson’s car following behind a few cars down. My stomach grumbles just then, and I realize I was so busy today, I forgot to take a lunch. I’ve been really craving some take-out recently, so before heading home, I stop by my favorite Chinese restaurant and get some to go.
I finally make my way back home and notice Carson’s car already parked in the driveway…but with the way that he drives, it doesn’t surprise me that he beat me here.
Walking through the front door, Carson is lazily lounging on the couch in an unbuttoned suit, watching some football.
It takes me a minute to gather myself at the way he looks so laid back but still so intimidating, especially in his business attire. It’s growing increasingly difficult to ignore the allure I have for him, especially when he looks like that.
He notices me by the door, and I regain my composure—thankfully. “I come bearing gifts,” I joke, showing him both carryout bags.
“I was wondering what you were up to. I hope one of those gifts is carrying Kung Pao chicken.”
I mock offense, placing a hand over my heart. “What kind of person do you take me for? Of course, there is.”
Earning a small grin from him, he gets up and takes the bags from my hands, setting them on the floor in front of the TV.
“We do have a perfectly good dinner table, you know…where people usually eat their food.”
He shrugs, “Decided to switch it up tonight. Plus, better view of the game.”
I roll my eyes but go along with it anyway. I grab two cold water bottles from the fridge and plop down on the floor next to him.
Now that we are unexpectedly on better terms with one another because of our newfound truce, I decide casual conversation is now acceptable. “Who’s playing?” I ask, placing some fried rice into my bowl.
“Nobody you’d be too interested in,” he states, stabbing a chicken from the carry-out box, not even bothering with a plate.
“Oh, yeah? Try me.” I smirk. Oh, he is so in for it.
“It’s the Pats versus the Packers.”
“That Aaron guy still the quarterback for the Packers?”
He blinks a bit stunned. “Yeah…”
“Pats all the way, then! That guy’s a schmuck.”
His puzzled expression turns into a sly smirk. “Care to make a wager on that, Pentalini?”
“You are so on, Granvil. Loser gets clean-up duty for a week.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.” I wink.
Now, I’m not a sore winner or anything, but winning against Carson in a man’s sport is definitely high on my greatest achievements list.
“How?” is all he can muster from the shock.
“I grew up in a house where I was outnumbered by men.” I shrug as if that’s all the explanation one needs.
He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling. “You are just something else, aren’t you?”
I smile brightly, thinking silently to myself, you don’t even know the half of it.
A few days pass, and it’s now around ten o’clock on a Thursday night. I find myself cuddled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, reading a book and drinking a nice glass of wine.